A Delicate Loss of Control
by Surrender
Summary: Misa realizes that all everything she has dreamed of has happened at the most inconvenient time possible. Takes place after the Yotsuba arc, around book 10. Slight spoilers possible. A what if? situation. Oneshot.


**Disclaimer-**I don't own Death Note or any characters in it.

An AU fic of sorts, more like musing. A "what if?" situation. Oneshot.

* * *

This wasn't supposed to happen. 

Misa is slumped over on the floor in the bathroom, face pressed into her hands, back against the white porcelain tub. She can feel the shock of cold tile under her, sharp against her flushed and panicking skin, only Light's thin shirt between the contrasting sensations. A groan escapes her lips, pure desperation made into something auditory on her breath, and she falls sideways until she is on her side, curled up on herself like a beaten dog.

Normally, this is not something she would so - a persistent reminder of germs and bacteria and sanitation muddling with the rest of her tangled thoughts – but such a small transgression on the norm seems so slight, so trivial compared to this, the big bad biological mess she's created.

She blames herself- how can she not? She should've been able to keep her head enough, for once, to remember. Light's always so calm, so sure, always so in control, she should've been able to make sure that the one time he let go, gave in to the rough and raging human part that he presses down inside of himself, she would be there to make sure nothing bad happened. But she had failed him. And it had led to this, to her in a fetal position next to a toilet, feeling small and ashamed. She had dreamt about this moment for what seemed like an eternity- not the feeling small, or the general smell of disinfectant, but of waking up next to the man she loved, knowing that she was loved, feeling love in the form of a soft sticky kicking inside of her.

So how had it all gone so terribly wrong?

Misa pulls her knees closer to her chin, hugging her legs and holding on for dear life. This is all her fault. She's always whining, always needling for Light's attention, always complaining that he's never there, they never talk, he never says he loves her, anymore.

And even if he does, it's not enough.

It can never be enough, not when he comes back late every night, if he comes back at all, not when she can hear every word she would die to hear being said in his beloved voice to someone else.

There was a time- Misa can hardly remember when or where or why or how- that she used to be relevant. Back when it was just her and Light, forging something solid on fragile love-at-first-sight.

When did he start hating her?

Was it when L arrested her?

No, Light couldn't really believe that she was the Second Kira, he couldn't really think she was capable of something so horrific.

Could he?

At least they had been in it together, then. She and Light. Just them, fighting against impossible odds to clear their names against a charge that must have wounded him like a white-hot blade. He had confided in her, then, she depended on him. Amidst the sudden strangeness and flash of blinding change, the constant observation, the pressure to never slip, never say one wrong thing, never think one thought that Kira might have, they had known each other's innocence, and it had kept them sane.

And she had mattered.

She misses L for that.

Now, though, Light is more than free, he's justice itself, and the only girl that matters to him is that stupid Takada.

Hoe doesn't love her, Misa reminds herself vehemently, he's only using her for the investigation. Stupid woman. She has no idea. Once her usefulness runs out, Light will turn her over to the police, and there's no way she'll escape the death penalty. She Kira's spokesperson, after all, and once Light captures Kira, everyone will see that he's just a person, just a man, and they'll get angry. People are fickle creatures- they'll turn on him, and the police will go back to the way they once were, like when L was alive, and her good, brave Light won't have to risk his life to do what's right, anymore.

Stupid Takada would never do that. She's a coward, fleeing to the easy, popular idol Kira has become, protecting herself with his borrowed power. Light must despise her for that. Misa would, if given the opportunity, hand over all the years of her life for Light. For justice. For love.

She knows Kira's allure, how easy it is to accept him as one's own personal angel of retribution. She's been under his spell. When she learned that the burglar who had killed her parents had himself been struck down in return, Kira became her god. Everything she had she owed him in thanks- her support, her aid, her life, her love. No matter what she gave him, it could never be equal to the unconscious miracle he had given her.

Then she met Light, and he taught her what true justice was. Not one person using their limited human judgment to decide who should live and who should die, not an idealistic psychopath who uses fear to keep people in line.

Kira is no god- Light taught her that. He's a criminal, just like the monster who killed her parents.

Sometimes Misa worries that she isn't strong enough for Light. She'll always be thankful to Kira, however much she tries not to be, and a part of her will always know him as God. But for Light she fights it, for Light she denies what seems true, for Light she condemns the man who brought her back to life when she was lost in grief and darkness and pain. All for Light. Because he is true justice, and justice must always prevail.

Because Kira is a murderer and Light is her savior.

Because, Misa admits as her hands clasp themselves over her stomach, her story is drawing to a close, and the spark of a new story has been ignited inside of her. She sees, suddenly, with the sharp clarity of a mother, and knows that she does not want her child to grow up in a world ruled by Kira.

Her child. And Light's.

Then Misa's mind catches up with itself, and she begins to panic. What will he say? How will she tell him? She has to tell him- she can't stay locked in the bathroom for the rest of her life. They're both still young, can they handle a child? What will Light _say_?

Misa stirs at a soft knocking on the door. Light's voice comes through, the most welcome and feared of all sounds, and it's muffled through the door.

"Misa? Any news?"

Misa feels nauseous, suddenly, though everything she knows about being pregnant- and it's not much, not as much as she probably should- tells her that you don't get mornings sickness on the first day.

She struggles to her feet. The floor won't stop tilting. Her legs are weak and her knees are locked from being in one prone position for too long. Oddly enough, Misa can't remember how long she's spent in the corner, feeling sick and scared and alone. She regains her strength and balance with the few quick steps it takes to cross the floor, and by the time she reaches for the doorknob, her stomach has stopped trying to claw its way up the back of her throat. Instead, her heart has decided to make an equally desperate bid for freedom by hammering straight through her ribs.

She freezes. Light will probably hate her for this. He'll go to Takada to complain about how useless Misa is, how childish, how unprepared.

A lifetime ago, her dreams had seemed so close they were practically inevitable. Being a model, an actress, a singer. Being a star. Being happy. She can't even recall how that hopeful future had turned into this, how her plans had led her here.

The door swings open, and Light is greeted by a Misa on the verge of tears. She collapses against him, remembering. It's Light. He's the reason. She gave up everything for him, so that she could marry him and not have to worry about anything but loving him for the rest of her life. His arms close around her, stiff, impatient, before he pushes her away and fixes a concerned look on his face.

Misa composes herself. She's made Light worried, now, just look at his expression! He's not even dressed yet, and this is strange, uncharacteristic. It doesn't occur to Misa that he isn't dressed because she has been preventing his access to a shower. He looks…a little annoyed, honestly, but his normally perfect hair is disheveled and sticking out in odd places, and the sheer vulnerability this affords him is wonderfully comforting.

"Light," she says weakly. The name sings from her lungs, but loses steam somewhere along the journey to her lips, and the sound is more sigh than substance.

He brushes the tears from her cheeks, and his fingers are cold, as usual. They feel like ice against her flushed face. Misa grasps his hand and holds it tightly, willing herself to stop crying. It's no use. She's going to lose him, going to lose that last thing keeping her whole, keeping her sane, keeping her safe, keeping her blind.

Then Light pulls her close to him and whispers her name into her hair. Misa breathes deeply, relishing the familiar scent of his skin- soap and tension and recycled air- mingling with the tang of stale sweat and the faintest trace of her own perfume. She can feel his heartbeat, and suddenly it's like his strength, his resolve, are being pumped into her, stitching together the broken pieces of her, smoothing ruffled feathers and rough edges. She needs this- needs him, more than she's ever needed anything, before, more than she'll ever need anything again. She'll never stop needing him.

Misa presses the tips of her fingers against his back, and Light responds by tightening his embrace. It's an unspoken promise no one but Misa would notice. He'll be there as long as she needs him, to tighten the stitches when they start to slip, to press together the jagged edges of her shattered world, to chase away her nightmares. To lie to her and tell her that everything will be okay.

"There's no need to cry, Misa," promises Light quietly. "It'll be okay. We'll be okay."

Misa nods, "I know," and Light can feel her smile against his chest.

It doesn't take much to calm her down, not for Light. In less than an hour, he's showered and dressed. Misa trots obediently to her own room to do the same.

The moment she's gone, Ryuk's low chuckle breaks the silence. Light glances sideways at the smirking shinigami, annoyance spread in the set of his mouth.

"Must you do that? I'm trying to think."

"About being a father?" Ryuk's voice is light and assuming, meant to provoke. He rolls onto his back mid-air and shoots Light an expectant grin.

The human is disappointingly unaffected. "What? No, don't be ridiculous, Ryuk. I'm not worried about that." He leans down to tie his shoe, smooth his pants, and just when Ryuk thinks Light has dropped the subject, he says, "Misa probably should be, though. Pregnancy is such a fragile state."

He's thinking out loud, now, his voice flat. If there were still cameras in his room, any onlooker would note how he looks practically bored, sitting on the edge of his bed, tying his shoelace. When he speaks again, there's a razor-blade edge to his voice, an ominous static like the air before a storm.

"There are so many things that could go wrong. I mean, women die in childbirth all the time."

* * *


End file.
